


Casino

by arial_destiny



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gambling, Italian Mafia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 19:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arial_destiny/pseuds/arial_destiny
Summary: Running the last great Las Vegas mob casino was no easy feat, and the fresh faced boy who started cleaning house was not making Nero’s job any easier.





	Casino

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give some love to this quiet little fandom since I love stories about the American mafia and I wanted to do a modern take of Nero as a 21st century mobster. Note that I did try to keep it somewhat realistic to the era, but I’m not a mobster myself so inaccuracies are bound to show up.
> 
> This was inspired by the film Casino but does not follow its plot.

It was an abnormally breezy and wet day in the desert city. Two years ago, Nero had packed up his life in the outskirts of windy Chicago and arrived as a star-struck 21-year old in Las Vegas. He had long forgotten how flat and lifeless his hair became without copious amounts of gel when the air was teeming with moisture. Fighting with his reflection had been a chore all day. 

He wiped the sweat from his brow, no longer used to the humidity of living by the great lakes and lit a cigarette as he leaned on the balcony railing. Nero was one of the last remaining mobsters in the Vanetti crime family, the family had dwindled in numbers and fewer and fewer new recruits came each year. Inducted as capo at the young age of 21, Nero became heir to the Italian mob’s last standing casino in Las Vegas, The Lodge. His father, the current don of the family, gave him his first job as capo: run the casino.

Unfortunately that job was a lot more difficult than he had originally thought. Nero loved to party and have a good time. He always had great ideas to attract young customers with fantastical shows and exquisite cuisine, lavish dance clubs and exotic pool parties – but he couldn't get people to gamble. A great deal of the family’s money laundering was done through gambling and two years of falling earnings from the card tables meant increasingly tense sit-downs with his father and the other capos.

“Nero!”

He turned at the sound of a familiar but voice, exhaling his cigarette to look at a man with sleek blonde hair waving his left arm, gesturing him to come back inside.

“What’s up, Barbero?”

The thin blonde man named Barbero frowned. “It’s Vanno, he called me and said we have a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” Nero asked, interest piqued. It has been a slow week.

“A double-seven.”

Nero dropped his cigarette and snubbed it out with the toe of his shoe. “What? Actually?”

“So Vanno claims.”

“Fuck.”

He started back inside the lavish casino and crossed the balcony in long strides. Nero almost tripped as his bounded down the stairs, two at a time. Barbero followed closely behind him, one hand holding the handrail while the other was ready to grab Nero if he fell. Vanno, Nero’s childhood best friend and family enforcer was waiting at the bottom, a young man of maybe 19 or 20, Tronco or something, shifted nervously beside him.

“Fuck - hurry up!”

“I am, I am.” Nero flung himself down the last step and grabbed Vanno’s shoulder in a tight grip. “What’s the situation?”

Vanno gestured with his head to the left, over to some card tables that were drawing a large crowd consisting mostly of giggling young women. “That motherfucker’s cleaning house. A double-seven.”

Double-seven was their code name for a person who was consistently beating the house odds. In a casino, the odds are always for the house to win. If someone keeps beating the odds, there was only one reason: they were cheating. And cheating against the mob was not tolerated.

Nero raised an eyebrow. “Why all the ladies?”

“Cht, the double-seven’s some pretty boy.”

Without hesitation, Nero brushed past Vanno between a pair of pillars holding up the innocuous “HIGH LIMIT” sign and started towards the card tables. It was a poker table, a quick glance at the chips showed a pot of around $100,000. Curious girls caked in make-up with push-up bras and low V-neck dresses ooh’d and awe’d drunkenly as they hoped their feminine wiles attracted the attention of the young man sitting cross legged at the far side of the poker table.

“Call.”

Nero’s eyes ran down the young man’s (long, very long) legs covered by a pair of fitted dress pants. His poised upper body – clearly fit yet slim – was tucked in a clean white shirt, and a fashionable bowl-cut gave his dark hair a fashion model look. The man – really more a boy – had soft features, a pointed chin, smooth small nose, pouty lips and large, golden eyes framed by dark lashes. 

A pretty boy indeed.

The older gentleman at the table frowned and deflated, clearly the last one in the game besides the boy. “Fold.”

The boy threw down his cards. The crowd gasped and cheered.

Nero elbowed his way closer to the table, itching to get a look at the cards. A flush. Not bad, but not the kind of hand that would warrant the kind of applause the boy was getting from the gaggle of women ogling him.

The dark haired boy smirked and rose from his chair, brushing his bangs aside as his other hand moved the pile of chips from the center to his side of the table.

By now, Vanno had caught up to him. “That’s his tenth win in a row. He’s been here since four and has been sweeping every table. I had the dealers on duty switch half way to throw him off but nothing’s changed. Our best patrons are pissed.” He gasped in his ear.

Nero nodded, unable to take his sight off of the boy. His eyes trailed pale and nimble fingers as they tapped against lush lips. As though sensing someone watching, he turned his head, eyes meeting Nero’s.

They stared at each other, eyes locking. Nero could feel a shock run through him, jolting him in a way he never felt before. It felt like the gravitational pull of the earth suddenly increased ten-hold, rooting him to the floor. He couldn’t move.

“Hello, handsome.” Another sinister smirk. Nero’s eyes darted to either side before startled, he realized the boy was talking to him. The boy plucked a chip from his pile, and held it open towards him. “Would you like a drink?”

A redhead beside Nero started giggling and nudged her friend. The two made no show of hiding that they were pointing at Nero and whispering about him.

Nero gulped, suddenly remembering that Vanno was still beside him. “Uh, hey, sorry but I don’t swing that way.”

Vanno slapped his back forcefully, and shot him a glare. “What he means to say is that he is the floor manager of this casino, and we got something to talk to ya about!”

“What else would such a handsome man want from me, other than a night with strong drinks?” Completely ignoring Vanno, the boy swiveled his body to face Nero.

“Look you twink, if you keep fooling around, we’re gonna toss you out of the casino even if it means messing up your pretty face.” Vanno growled.

Suddenly, Nero’s manager-mode kicked in, and he stepped forward before the crowd could take offense at Vanno’s language and open threats. “I like that idea, let’s go get a drink.” He beamed the brightest smile he could muster. Embellishing his words with a wave of his arm, he gestured to the boy to leave the table, and motioned to Tronco to start counting the chips the boy had won. “We’ll take care of your chips, you’ll get your money, don’t worry. We just want to have a little talk over some whiskey. How about it? It’s on us.”

The boy followed orders, sly grin growing bolder as he brushed his fingers across Nero’s exposed forearm, stopping where his sleeves had been rolled up.

“Oh I’m all for fooling around.” He winked, “I don’t mind some whiskey mixed in if you’re buying for me.”

It took everything Nero had not to gulp in nervousness. He had his pride to think about.

 

A makeshift interrogation room had been made out of the staff room in the basement. Vanno pushed the boy into the room, letting him stumble as he tried to catch his footing.

“Look here smart-ass, no newcomer comes in here and cleans house. If you’re cheating, better to admit to it now before we pummel you ‘til you can’t feel your body no more.” Vanno’s booming voice echoed in the chamber.

Barbero took a seat and looked down his nose, adjusted his glasses as he added, “We don’t want to rough up honest customers, you see. If you don’t comply with our questions we can only assume you’re cheating and ban you from the casino.”

Nero said nothing and leaned against the closed door as he watched his partners in crime do their good cop-bad cop routine on the fellow. They went back and forth but their suspect largely ignored them. Vanno was growing aggregated. He was the type who lived on thrill. 

“Forget the questions, search him! If we find cards hidden up your sleeve, you’re done for!” 

Vanno shot a look over at Nero and gestured with his head in the boy’s direction.

Nero sighed. He expected this, he was a terrible shot so Vanno always had the gun. His job was to do the search while his armed friends stood further back in case things go nasty. He narrowly avoided getting stabbed a handful of times in the last two years. 

The dark-haired boy raised boths arms, letting Nero pat him down for weapons. His hands shook and he handled the boy more gently than he usually did during pat downs to mask his anxiety; avoided lingering in any location for too long. Barbero and Vanno were both intently watching, and the pressure of their gazes made him avoid eye contact with the boy. The boy was only slightly shorter than him but his lethe body was a stark contrast to Nero’s build. He was confident he could wrestle the boy done if he needed to. From the first year of high school he had been on the boxing and wrestling teams and he had accumulated plenty of “street fighting” experience since. 

“Can’t keep your hands or eyes off me, huh?” The boy whispered.

Nero ignored him, unwilling to get riled up by this guy in front of his companions. He was the boss and he had to act like it.

Once he was sure that the boy had no weapons, he stepped back. “Take your brazer off.”

“Sure,” the other didn’t miss a beat, “but I prefer if...we take this somewhere...more private.”

“Hurry up already! We don’t have all day and night.” Vanno was getting impatient. 

“If you want privacy, you may,” Barbero corrected, “as a customer of our establishment, we can’t force you to remove your clothing. We only ask you to comply.” 

The boy’s expression was unusually impossible to read, except for his condescending smirk, but he looked downright predatory as he looked up and down the length of Nero’s body. “How about the two of you leave the room and let this man do his job?”

Nero froze. A part of him leapt at the thought of getting to be alone with the beauty in front of him, the more rational part wanted to bolt from the room before the boy’s claws ripped into him and didn't let go. 

Barbero, perhaps sensing Nero’s great discomfort, got up from his chair. “We can’t allow that, he is our manager. Please allow me do the search.”

The tension left Nero’s shoulders. “You alright with that?”

The boy shrugged. “If that’s how you want it.”

Vanno and Nero stepped out of the room and back into the hallway, closing the door behind Barbero and their suspect. Air outside seemed ten degrees cooler. Nero took a deep breath and filled his lungs.

“Geez,” Vanno took out a silver cigarette case, offering one to Nero. He took it, lit it using a lighter from his vest pocket and inhaled the nicotine which immediately started to calm his nerves. “He likes messing with you.”

Nero exhaled.

Vanno continued, “he senses weakness.”

“Thanks,” Nero replied sarcastically.

“I don’t know what’s up with you. You ain’t usually like this.”

Well most double-sevens weren’t pretty boys who liked to flirt with him.

“What’s his name?” He asked.

“Avilio Bruno,” Vanno lit his cigarette, “or so the dealer tells me.”

“Fake name?”

“Maybe, not hard to get fake IDs nowadays.”

“Where’s he from?”

“LA, apparently.”

“He looks young.”

“Dealer said it was his 21st birthday. Party in Sin City and all that.”

Vanno glanced at the gold rolex on his wrist. “It’s midnight, I gotta go to bed. Church tomorrow.”

Nero smiled. “Mob enforcer who goes to bed at midnight to wake up for Sunday service. How are you real, Vanno?”

Vanno gave him a long look, then glanced back at the door where Barbero was checking the cheater inside the staff room. “Maybe you should think about going to church sometime.”

“You know I don’t believe in all that.”

“Maybe you should.”

 

Tronco and his old friend Tigre who worked casino security came to relieve them a few minutes later, getting word that there was a possible double-seven. Vanno left him at the casino door, hopping into a sleek black sports car the valet pulled up for him. Nero then retreated back upstairs to the top floor of the Lodge to his office. Officially his title was Casino Floor Manager, in reality he was the boss of the entire operation. 

His office was small and cramped, but tastefully furnished. Nothing too showy in case the IRS or FBI decided to pay him a visit and ask questions why the floor manager had the best office in the casino. A few pictures of his family - his sister Fio, brother Frate - an old photo with both his parents - rested on his desk. The view of the glistening strip illuminated his window, a beautiful view, but also one that reminded him daily of the casino’s location at the end of the strip. Just like the family, the casino had little influence in this town nowadays. 

Nero sat back in his chair and decided to take a kick at the financial reports sitting in a neat pile on his desk. The night’s excitements were over and he was starting to relax, trying to put the boy’s - “Avilio’s” face to the back of his mind. Maybe- maybe if he wasn’t a capo in the Chicago mafia he would’ve enjoy a night out in Vegas with the handsome young man, enjoying his company over drinks and gambling before taking him back to his room in the presidential wing. Nero couldn’t resist a pretty face, he had a bit of a reputation as a womanizer. He loved beautiful men too, but his upbringing in the mob led him to bury those feelings, unwilling to disappoint his father.

His sister was studying in Yale, his brother had wanted a career in politics. Nero was likely the last mafiosi in the family, and his father’s lofty expectations weighed heavily on his shoulders. After two years he wasn’t sure if his placement in one of his family’s only “legitimate businesses” was due to his own incompetencies as a mobster, or out of love.

As his eyes drifted over numbers and endless lines of expenses he slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

A knock on his door jolted him awake. Nero blinked and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. ‘What time was it? How long was I out for?’ He thought as he realised he was still sitting at his desk. Another knock echoed through his office. Grudgingly he got up and slid the lock open. 

“Who is it?”

A muffled voice sounded. “You owe me an apology.”

Nero furrowed his brows as he wracked his brain over where he heard that voice again. He slowly opened the door, cautious since it was so late at night.

On the other side of the door, the boy from earlier in the casino stood arms crossed. He didn’t look particularly upset, as his words would suggest, and his expression was blank.

“What?”

“I said you owe me an apology.”

“For what?” Nero’s brain had yet to catch-up to the conversation.

“For accusing me of cheating.”

He blinked hard, “where’s Barbero?”

“He let me go when he didn’t find anything.”

“Oh.” Nero’s sleep addled mind was having a hard time deciphering where this conversation was leading him. “Why are you still here?”

“You owe me money.”

“Huh?”

“My chips,” the boy - Avilio he remembered, paused, “and a drink.”

It would’ve been easy for Nero to hand the boy over to someone else to take care of the issue, or just given him his money back and kicked him out. It wasn’t uncommon to ban patrons who frequently won big jackpots. Sometimes there was no way of proving they were cheating, but the likelihood of them consecutively winning was just too low to be legitimate. 

Nero didn’t feel like starting a fight. Had it been a card game bet against the house, he would have been forced to take it more seriously, but with poker, he got his cut so there wasn’t much to complain about. It was in the wee hours of the morning, not that that meant much in Vegas, but he was exhausted and the nerves that show themselves whenever he’s near Avilio made him uncharacteristically deflated as he waited by the cashier desk.

After they left his office, they didn’t exchange any words. There was awkwardness that Nero was not used to, yet he felt no need to fill it with small talk. When Avilio wasn’t prodding him with a snarky remark, he was fairly quiet. 

The cashier, an anxious, brash man named Cervetto gave Nero a knowing look as he counted out the cash from Avilio’s casino card. It was a look meaning “are you sure we should let him cash out?” In total it was a dash under $100k, after the casino took it’s cut. 

“You’re pretty good for someone so young.” Nero remarked. It was very unusual for someone young and not a regular to make that kind of money.

“You can’t be much older than me,” Avilio replied. “Mr. Floor Manager.”

Nero shrugged. The last thing he was going to mention was that he happens to be more mobster than manager. Cervetto packed up the wad of bills and handed over to the boy.

“The name’s-“ The boy started.

“Avilio, I heard, hey what are you going to do with all that cash, you’re not going to walk out with it are you?”

“Where do you live?”

“Huh?” Nero scratched his head. “Well I live here, in the presidential wing.” Since his life was the casino, he rarely left the premises. 

Avilio handed the sack of money to him. “Okay, give me the room next door, for however long this lasts for.”

Nero almost dropped the money handed to him. He sent the boy a startled look. Did he have...a stalker?

“Hey, I told you already, I don’t swing that way-“

Avilio interrupted, “but you need me.”

Nero was confused. “What.”

The tone of the conversation shifted from playful to business in a split second.

“Your casino needs someone like me. I’m somewhat of a professional handicapper. Right now your gambling business isn’t making you much money. You need someone to change the odds every week. To keep people playing.” 

Nero shook his head, “look I ain’t hiring, why don’t you go home, kid.”

“$250,000 annually. And a place to stay.” Dark bangs formed long shadows on the boy’s face. “I’ll work for free for a month. I’ll show you what I can do.”

He repeated. “Look kid, we aren’t hiring. How do I know you even know what you’re doing?”

“Well,” that smirk again, “I came in with a thousand bucks, and now I have $100,000,” He waved a hand. “I just need one month.”

Nero gritted his teeth. Well one month couldn’t hurt, right? It could all be a scam. He could be taken for a fool. But if this guy had legititmately won all that he had that day, then maybe this was the person he needed to save the casino.

The boy waved down one of many waiter’s in the casino, passing out drinks in hopes of separating men from their hard earned cash. “Two whiskeys, on the rocks. This gentleman and I have a lot to talk about.”

 

One month flew by in a blur. His new next-door neighbour had inserted himself seamlessly into Nero’s life with an ease that concerned him. Barbero was suspicious and vehemently against allowing Avilio to have full reign of the gambling operation and kept a close eye on him. Vanno seemed pissed that Nero had agreed to the arrangement at all. 

A week after he started, Avilio had all the slot machines reprogrammed. The odds of winning 7’s went down, all other odds when up. Barbero had refused, but Nero thought to give him a chance. A week of trials showed profits raised by 15%.

“Your odds of winning minor prizes are too low, people won’t keep playing if you don’t dangle the carrot, but you can’t let them get the jackpot.” Avilio explained. The third week he had waiters on the game floor give out strong, but cheap vodka in the late afternoon for free. “Get it into their system before dinner, they’re gamble more while drunk, but need less booze to get drunk.” Another 7% raise in profits, all during the late afternoon.

By the fourth week, Avilio had all of Nero’s men made into surveyors, doing head counts every hour in every doorway, filling out charts of data. He had earnings from players analysed and constantly adjusted winning odds for various machines throughout the day. Waitresses and dealers changed outfits several times a day to cater to different types of customers. At the end of the month, he had proven himself to be Nero’s most valuable earner. Profits had gone up 20% on the gambling floor. Chicago was pleasantly surprised. 

Nero picked up two glasses of scotch from the bar at the center of the casino and walked over to the round high table where Avilio sat in a slim fitting black suit.

He beamed and raised his glass, “to my newest assistant floor manager!”

Avilio picked up the glass and clinked it to Nero’s. They both gulped until their glasses were emptied. 

From under the table, the boy nudged Nero’s leg. “Time to talk business. I’m out of money from the presidential suite.”

“You didn’t have to stay there.”

“It’s the only room beside yours.”

“You didn't have to stay beside me.”

“I want $300k annual,” Avilio stared into Nero’s eyes. “And the suite.”

“That’s not what you said before.”

“Turns out I’m better than I expected.”

Nero laughed. “I’ll give you the other room in my suite if you want Princess. At least I won’t be out a few thousand bucks a night.”

Avilio smirked, “what are my benefits?”

“The pleasure of my company and all expensed visits to the ER for stomach pumps.” 

Avilio leaned over the table and looked behind long lashes. His expression was unreadable. “What kind of pleasure should I expect?”

They had been working all day without a bite to eat. Nero could feel himself become dazed as the alcohol entered his blood stream. He gulped.

“I got a booth and bottle service tonight at Volpe’s, you in?” 

Volpe was one of Nero’s men. He ran the rooftop club at the Lodge. 

“When does my stomach pumping benefits start?”

“After tonight.”

“Stingy.”

Nero gave him a wide smile. Whether he wanted to or not, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

 

Vanno had been more irritated than usual. Nero knew this because he was his oldest friend, they knew each other since early childhood, and whenever Vanno was irritated, he spent more and more time at church. It had been a full two weeks since he saw Vanno outside of the casino games floor, he sat on Nero’s living room couch, legs splayed across, barely acknowledging him.

“Okay, what’s going on with you lately?” Nero was tired of Vanno’s machismo. “If you got something to say, split it out already.” 

Vanno tapped his leg against the floor. Fidgeting in his seat. “Is the kid here?”

By the kid, Nero assumed he meant Avilio. 

“No he’s out.” 

Vanno relaxed a bit. “geez, what were you thinking letting him move in with you. We can't trust him yet.”

“I barely see him, I'm out all of the time. All I do is sleep here. Besides, this place is huge.” Nero sat down opposite him, and cocked his head. “Don't you think this is what it's like living with roommates in college?” he gave a cheesy grin. 

“Since when did you have interest in college? Is it because of that twink?”

Nero frowned. “Chill will ya? Hey the kid’s making us tons of dough. The last call I got from Chi-town the old man was pretty happy.”

“Ch.” Vanno gritted his teeth. “Are you forgetting that we aren't a regular casino? Not exactly the place to climb the corporate ladder. This ain't a place for an outsider to get so close to the high-ups.”

Nero sat up. “If he can make his worth, he stays. That's the rule of La Cosa Nostra.”

“I think you’re skipping a few rules there. Like family first. And secrecy. The kid can stay, but you need to move him further from the money. Got it?”

He wasn’t going to get into a fight with Vanno, he knew his priority was always family first. “Do you trust me, Vanno?”

“Yes.”

“Then listen to me.”

Vanno got up, clearly still irritated. He turned away, then hesitated. “How’s Fio?”

Nero leaned back in his chair and raked a few loose strands of hair from his face. “She’s fine, seemed pretty happy on the phone.”

“Same boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I hope she’s happy with him.”

 

April soon became summer. It was the Vegas off season where most of the patrons fled north to cooler destinations. All the pools on the Strip casinos were open for daytime pool parties, but the raging sun scared off most until the afternoons. 

Nero lounged under a sun umbrella by the Lodge’s empty adult’s only pool. He was nursing a mild hangover from the night before. Friday nights were usually reserved for parties at the club. As usual, Volpe had brought many women, mostly tourists to their booth. It had been a tiring evening trying to keep the six or so ladies who flung themselves over him happy. Sometimes he felt like he was the entertainment.

His mind wandered off to his roommate. He had almost forgotten what life was like without him. The suite they shared was large with almost 1500 square feet of space and long hallways. It wasn’t unusual to go a day without bumping into each other. Last night he had wanted to bring Avilio to the club to help keep the ladies at bay. Women were easily charmed by Avilio, even when he had little to say. It had been weeks since Nero last brought a girl home and his patience with entertaining them every Friday was going thin. He had thought about not going, but he knew his men would get suspicious if he didn’t show up.

It had been several months and he still wasn’t sure if Avilio was joking when he was flirting with him. He’s never brought home any women, but never brought home any men either. Nero had no idea what the boy did when he wasn’t working or with him.

“Nero?” The sound of Avilio’s voice across the pool made him get up and squint at the blinding sunlight. 

“Where’ve you been?” The question left his mouth before he had a chance to think. Nero never asked him personal questions before. It wasn’t due to a lack of caring, but more so out of respect for the boy’s privacy.

“Looking for you.” As he walked closer, Nero saw that he was wearing only a white bathrobe, the type found in all the casino hotel rooms. Suddenly he remembered that this was technically a nude pool. The adults only sign flashed in his mind. Embarrassed he looked away as Avilio plopped down on the lounge chair beside him, quickly checking that the towel he had was still around his waist.

Avilio looked at him in silence, gears seemingly turning in his head. It was almost like he was checking him out.

“What do you need?”

“We never get to hangout like this,” Avilio started, “...alone.”

Nero paused before speaking, “you started working here in spring, it was the middle of the tourist season. Busy all the time.”

Avilio leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs but letting a sliver of milky leg peek out from under his bathrobe. “Tell me about you.”

“Huh?”

“I live with you but barely know anything about you. Where are you from? Not here I’m assuming.”

“Chicago.” Nero replied. He had always been careful about telling people outside of the mob about his personal life. Informants could easily twist information against him.

“I’m also from Illinois.” Avilio said, “from a small town named Lawless.”

Nero let out a chuckle. “A foreboding name.”

“Back in the 20’s it used to be a major bootlegging town, due to the proximity to the Canadian border.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“Now it’s a no name town, not much to see there except for a church on a sandbar in the middle of the river.”

Nero grew curious. “Why did you come to Vegas?”

“Did some school in LA, hated it and was looking for somewhere to go that made a lot of money.”

“Still got family back home?”

Avilio closed his eyes. “I guess, haven’t seen them for a while.”

“Same,” Nero yawned, “got a brother who won’t talk to me, recent relapse in rehab. Sister’s in college, busy all the time. Mum’s been dead since I was a kid and father’s only interested in how much I’m making.”

The boy turned his body in the lounge chair to face him. “How’d you end up with this job?”

“Connections.” It was pretty much the truth.

“You seem a bit inexperienced to be a manager at a major Vegas casino.”

“You seem a bit inexperienced to be an assistant to a manager at a major Vegas casino.”

“Pretty sure assistants don’t need to be experienced,” Avilio retorted.

“Then what do assistants need?”

“They need to be hot.” Avilio smirked. 

Nero rolled his eyes, he really shouldn’t ask but he was hungover and his brain wasn’t as quick as his mouth. “You actually gay or is that an act?”

“You have a problem with that?” 

Nero didn't have a problem with that, but his ever religious enforcer Vanno was a devout catholic. In the mob, being gay was a death sentence, bosses had been killed for sleeping with men. He had no desire to enlist the boy into the mob and was happy to keep him on payroll, but the capos in Chicago wouldn’t approve. They were old school geezers. His father Vincent had started hounding him over the fact that Nero never had a steady girlfriend before. He dated plenty of girls but never felt the need or want to carry on a serious relationship. Vanno was in love with his sister, but the feeling was one-sided. Vincent saw that as the norm for a man his age.

The white robe fell aside as Avilio bent one impossibly long, pale leg. Slim yet athletic. Nero purposefully keep his eyes away from his crotch.

“You know, you gotta gamble sometimes,” thin fingers combed back sleek black hair, “to find out what you really want.”

Nero felt an immediate need to steer the conversation away before his little friend popped up to betray him. “So, what did you take in school?” 

Avilio frowned, Nero couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or if that was his natural expression. 

“Behavioural economics.”

“That explains the mind games.”

“Funny.”

The two bantered back and forth. Words easily exchanged. It surprised Nero how easy it was to talk to the boy, once he got used to the deadpan humor. When they ran out of words they sat in comfortable silence and enjoyed the desert heat. 

 

 

“Are you going on a date?” Tigre asked, no doubt noticing Nero’s combed back hair and well fitting tuxedo. The comment caused Nero to flinch. In some ways he was going on a “date.”

Avilio had bought him a ticket to see a circus show on the Strip. It was pretty silly. Sometimes the weight of the mob sat heavily on his shoulders and he forgot he was really a 23-year old living in Sin City. It had been ages since he relaxed.

“Just a night of fun.”

Tigre leaned towards his ear, eyes darting to make sure no one was within earshot. “Tell B that Chi-town wants 5 mil added to the books.”

Nero nodded and whispered back. “Should be easy with our gambling numbers the last few months.”

“Thanks to the kid.”

He reached into his pocket to his burner phone. Nero switched phones weekly to ensure that the authorities weren’t tracking him. He dialed the number he knew too well. Barbero’s voice answered on the other end of the line.”

“Tell accounting, 5 are coming in.”

“Roger.”

It was all code for the Vanetti’s money laundering business. Sure the casino made great profits from the hotel and clubs and restaurants, but the reason Nero was here was to clean the cash. It was here in the Lodge’s accounting department where the mob’s drug money became casino profits. Some of those profits where then invested into a offshore account in the Cayman Islands. 

Nero hung up and Tigre helped straighten his bow tie. “A pretty lady? Think you’re gonna get lucky?”

“Nah, just hanging with a pal.” Nero had a lot of pals in Vegas. He partied with a lot if promoters and knew all the club managers. He hoped the off handed answer would satisfy him. Considering Avilio’s reputation as a homosexual, he didn’t want his men getting the wrong idea. Nero had tried to persuade him that his jokes weren’t funny but he also never got a straight answer out of the boy whether his flirting was genuine or not. 

A knock on the door. Avilio opened the door to the staff room and peeked his head inside. “Nero, we need to go now or we’ll be late.”

Tigre immediately shot Nero a strange look. 

“Yeah, I’m ready, let’s go.” He got up and quickly left the room, not acknowledging Tigre’s reaction. 

They swiftly traversed across the red carpet lined hallways of the Lodge towards the valet where a man in uniform handled Nero the keys to his Ferrari. 

It was a short drive made longer by the constant traffic of South Las Vegas Boulevard. He left his keys with the other valet when he arrived and only took a good look at Avilio when they starting waiting in line for the show. Avilio wore a close fitting, slightly translucent cream shirt and black capris with suspenders. Dark bangs framed his soft features, his hazel eyes shining gold under the light of the theatre. He was beautiful. Nero couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride as he guided the boy by the small of his back.

Several sets of jealous eyes were glued on them. From his peripheral vision he saw a mirror in the hallway and glanced into the reflective surface. They were an incredibly good-looking pair.

Throughout the show, Nero found his hand touching Avilio. First it was light brushes against his leg. When the light show started and revealed that the ring leader had pulled live doves out of his hat he squeezed the slim arm beside him. By the time the finale came and the theatre was entirely engulfed in a barrage of acrobatics and juggling, his hand was resting firmly on the boy’s leg. His fingers rubbed the lean muscles in his inner thigh. Avilio leaned into his touch.

The ride home was a test of his patience. 

 

Slamming the door behind them, Nero barely got his blazer off before Avilio threw his arms around his neck, nuzzling his face against Nero’s chin. They stood there, embracing for several minutes. Avilio tilted his face up, eagerly waiting, expecting. 

Nero could no longer deny his attraction. He rarely found men attractive as he grew up surrounded by the burly men of the mob, but he was weak for pretty faces. New emotions that he could not describe, welled up in his chest but he did not lean in to kiss his parted lips. 

The boy seemed to sense his hesitation and let go of his neck. “Forget about it.”

“Look Avilio-“ Nero wasn’t sure how he would explain the plethora of complexities involved with romancing a man while being in the mob. It was a maze starting from his traditional catholic upbringing, to the expectations his father had for him to give him grandchildren, to the very real possibility that he could get whacked if anyone found out about his illicit affair with a man.

“Not everyone’s a gambler.” Avilio let out a sigh. “I’m not offended.”

“Avilio…”

“Just stop-” he inhaled a laboured breath, “giving me the wrong impression about you.”

Wrong impression? Nero didn’t know what to say, so he let out a sorry as he watched the boy retreat into his room at the end of the hallway. 

Sleep didn’t come easily to him that night. The 23-year old man in him wanted to burst into the other room and ravish the boy until he came undone from pleasure. The mafiosi in him held him back, reminding him again and again that his duty was to the family and that alone.

 

The next morning Nero bumped into Avilio in the kitchen. He was making pancakes on the small single cooktop in their kitchen wearing nothing but the white bathrobe. 

“Hey.” Nero greeted.

Avilio didn’t turn around, focussed on flipping pancakes. 

“Sorry about last night.” Nero paused, “I shouldn’t have come onto you. Actually I’m also your boss so I’m sure I broke some labour laws there.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, still facing away from him. 

“I like you a lot, you add a lot of value to the business,” Nero winced, that came out way more formal than he would have liked, “and you’re a good friend. I don’t want it to be awkward between us. I want you to stay here, working with me in the casino.”

“I said it’s fine.” Avilio replied curtly. He hit the home button on his phone and glanced at the screen. “It’s Monday, time to reset the odds on the machines.”

The conversation was clearly over.

“Yeah.”

 

The visit to Chicago was brief. Nero sat at the long grand dining table, smoking one of his dad’s Cuban cigars. Ganzo, one of the other capos who was like an uncle to him growing up had been singing his praise all throughout dinner. Vincent was much quieter as he contemplated the family’s success in the last few months in silence.

Nero cleared his throat as he looked over to his father. His face was pale, and seemed to struggle with his fork. 

“How are you, father?”

Vincent put down his fork. “Fine.”

“How’s Frate? And Fio?”

Ganzo cut into the conversation. “Your brother’s finally out of rehab.”

Nero nodded. “And Fio?”

Ganzo let out a laugh. “Still not single, you can tell Vanno that.”

“I really do not care about her love life. She can do whatever she wants.” Nero sighed. Somehow he had gotten used to the family grilling him about poor casino numbers, praise was making him feel even more tired than usual. He paused as he pictured the two in his head. “Are they coming back for Thanksgiving?”

“They’re at the age where they think they’re too cool for family, kids these days.” Ganzo sighed. 

Vincent finally spoke. “How’s the casino been performing so well?”

Nero shrugged. He didn’t want his father to know about his new assistant. He was always worried about new people around the family. “Barbero’s had some good ideas.”

This father nodded and went back to eating his pork chop. 

Ganzo let out another laugh and thumped the table with his fist. “That man deserves a raise! One day he might be capo or consigliere.”

“Yeah, Babero’s great, and loyal.” Nero blew smoke, enjoying the fragrance of the cigar. But Avilio was even better. 

“Don’t forget to make sure you get rid of the old financial reports after Barbero adds the money from the cocaine shipments. Don’t want law enforcement asking questions about why they don't match up.”

The father swallowed his food, and took a slow sip from his wine glass before he addressed his son again. “Those numbers will draw in the FBI, be careful.”

“Of course.” Nero answered. “Vanno’s always paranoid about the feds.”

“Well they’re the reason we’re like this now, back in the day, all Chicago belonged to us, you should’ve seen the way women flocked to us, heh…” 

Nero pretended to pay attention and continued enjoying his cigar. No one could stop Ganzo when he started droning about the good old days. He watched his father eat the rest of his meal in silence. He couldn’t wait to go back home. All he looked forward to was seeing Avilio’s face again.

 

 

Reddening of leaves always reminded Nero of his late mother. In Chicago the leaves changed colors suddenly, overnight he would wake up to a different world of golds and orange and the smell of his mother’s onion soup. It had him nostalgic for Thanksgiving dinners.

He had begun to ease into the routine life of managing the casino. Rarely did the bosses back in Chicago ask him for favors beyond adding more dirty money into the casino accounts. Avilio’s magic had doubled his earnings on the gambling floor. The boy had a stubborn streak and only occasionally obeyed Nero, but never disappointed him with results. 

Vanno had slowly warmed up to Avilio due to his contributions to the family’s business but was still cautious around him. Nero’s only frustration was now was how greatly Barbero disliked Avilio. At times he felt like a babysitter, having to break up the frequent disagreements between them.

“Barbero is jealous of me.” Avilio commented over dinner one night. They were having a meal of chicken meatballs with pasta that Nero had whipped up. 

“I know,” Nero had been hoping that the problem would solve itself but their relationship seemed to be only getting worse, “he just doesn’t trust you yet.”

“Why does he need to trust me?” 

Nero paused as he tried to frame the issue without mentioning his background. “Some people are like that, they don’t work well with others unless they feel like they trust them.”

“He thinks I’m replacing him as your right hand man,” Avilio said bluntly. Then, “maybe I am.”

“It’s not a competition, you know. The more money, the better for everyone.” 

“Tell that to him.”

Nero didn’t have a retort. Many times he’s tried to get Barbero to stand down and stop starting arguments, but taking Avilio’s side always led to more animosity between them. He changed the subject. 

“You going home for Thanksgiving?”

Avilio shrugged. “Probably not. I’m busy enough here.”

“Not a family man?”

“Not much to do back home.” 

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Nero decided that he might as well give it a shot. “How would you like to spend Thanksgiving with me?”

Fork stopped mid air, Avilio gave him a blank look. “Don’t you have anything better to do for Thanksgiving?”

“My family hasn’t done anything for Thanksgiving since my mother passed away,” Nero explained. “I usually go somewhere alone, to take a break from running the casino.”

“Where do you suggest we go?”

“I dunno, how about camping?”

Avilio lowered his fork back to his plate and scrunched his nose, “Doesn’t seem fun to camp in a desert.”

“How about New York City?”

“Too cold.”

“LA?”

“Too many memories of college.”

“Where do you wanna go then?” Nero gave the boy an annoyed glare across the table, he could be so stubborn. 

Avilio stared back at him, face completely deadpan. “Disney World.”

“What?”

“In Florida.”

“Are you a child?” Nero twisted his fork in a long strand of spaghetti. 

“You asked me where I wanted to go. I want to go to Disney World.”

Nero chomped a mouthful of pasta. To be honest, he had never been to Disney World growing up, it wasn’t something he had even considered going to. As a full grown man, going on a trip with another full grown man, he was a bit embarrassed about booking a trip to Disney World of all places. He sighed.

“Fine,” from his pant pocket he took out his credit card and passed it across the table, “but you book it. I’m not walking into a travel agency and telling them I want to go to Disney World.” 

Avilio returned a sly look. “Fine by me.”

 

As the taxi stopped in front of their hotel, Nero immediately regretted giving Avilio his credit card. His card got declined as soon as he tried to pay the cab driver and the mischievous look in his companion’s eyes meant he had somehow managed to spend the limit of $10,000 and they had only just arrived.

After handing the driver cash, he got out of the car and texted Barbero to pay off his card for him. The two checked in and the hotel bellboy personally led them through hallways decked in exotic tropical decor. They went outside onto a deck by the ocean, and Nero got increasingly worried as the bellboy toured them through a massive bungalow suite with four beds and a personal swimming pool and a gas fireplace. 

Nero whispered in Avilio’s ear through clenched teeth. “How much was this place a night?”

Avilio shrugged in reply. “Maybe a couple thousand?”

He shot him a dirty look.

Once they had settled into their suite and the bellboy dropped off their suitcases, Avilio flipped through the channels on the big screen TV in the master bedroom, drowning the room in background noise from a baseball game. Nero leaned over his luggage and clicked it open. He started to unload a folder of papers. 

“What's that?” Avilio pointed at the papers. 

“Nothing for you to worry about.” 

He took out a lighter from his pocket and opened the bathroom door. The paper was bunched up and the lighter flickered as he started burning the pages, letting the ashes fall into the toilet. Avilio stood by the door, leaning against the frame. 

“Is it something illegal?” He had framed it as a joke but something about his tone made him sound perfectly serious. 

Nero knew that by mafia law, he was allowing Avilio to nose into family business, a crime punishable by death, but his gut told him to trust him. “You’re a smart boy, what do you think?”

Avilio looked away, “I know you're Italian, 23, and somehow a casino manager in Vegas. I think that says enough doesn't it?

Nero smirked as he finished burning the last page. The casino kept no digital copies of anything, originals were done by typewriter and kept locked in his office. It was enough to send to the IRS and nothing more.

“Just enjoy the cash and keep your pretty mouth shut, eh.” Nero slung one arm over the shorter man and dug out a hundred dollar bill with his other. “How about you get me some booze? I'm tired from the flight.”

Avilio shrugged him off and snatched the crisp bill from his fingers. “I'm not your servant.”

“Last I checked your title was assistant to the floor manager, so why don't you assist a little.”

Avilio reluctantly left for the bar in the lobby as Nero took out another folder of paper and returned to the bathroom toilet. The door closed with a squeak.

 

By sunset they had gone through a bottle of aged whiskey and two bottles of red wine. Avilio was eagerly circling locations in the Disney World map while he sat at the balcony table, sipping on his glass, legs crossed in white shorts and a loose patterned blouse. It was serene. 

Nero was admittedly a bit drunk.

“You know, I've never had a real girlfriend before.” he announced.

Avilio looked up and seemed to consider his words before speaking. “You don't seem to have any issues in bed without one. I can hear you down the hallway.”

“I'm not interested in a serious relationship. But a man’s got needs.” Nero prodded him in the cheek. “This is where you’re supposed to talk about your past relationships.”

“What, are we gossiping girls now?”

“Are you a virgin?”

He got a disgusted look.

“Perv.”

“You never answer my questions.”

“It's none of your business.”

“Do you even like girls?”

Avilio sighed and put down his map, taking a long gulp of whiskey. “Been with a few. Never been interested in them.”

“Men?” It came out a bit more curious than he had planned.

“I have a type, I guess.”

“What type?”

The boy seemed to mull over his answer, “...physically strong, handsome, dedicated...fun to be around and...a good guy.”

Nero grinned. “Sounds like me.” he was definitely drunk.

“I haven't been honest with you.”

“Huh?”

“Your beard,” he pointed at his chin, “it looks funny on you.”

“Hey! A beard is the mark of a man.”

“It's ugly.” Avilio scrunched up his nose. “And how are you a good guy? You just admitted you're a player.”

“I'm not!” Nero defended himself. With anyone else he probably would've boasted about his prowess in bed but he felt uncharacteristically prudish with Avilio. “I just haven't found the right person.”

“The right person, huh. How did you get on this subject again?”

Nero couldn't help the sly grin and light blush from washing over his face. “This is like our honeymoon.”

“What?”

“$4000 a night hotel, far away from other guests. Seaside view. Expensive bottles of booze. Big king sized bed with a balcony jacuzzi. Disney World. You dig me, eh?”

To his surprise, a bright red flush festered onto the boy’s face. “I just wanted to spend all your money.”

“When’s the surprise wedding at Cinderella’s castle?”

“You’re drunk.” Annoyed, Avilio got up and went back inside. Nero could hear the door to another bedroom slam shut. All he could think about was how cute he looked with red cheeks.

 

Nero had little say in where he got to go the next day. Since 8 am that morning, Avilio had woken him up and ran through their itinerary, down to every icecream shop and churro stand they would visit. His tour of Disney World consisted of theatre and sweets. 

Avilio was deathly afraid of heights. It took a lot of coaxing to get him on the rollercoaster. It took even longer before Avilio forgave him for making him undergo the ordeal. His punishment was to carry a four foot tall Donald Duck from the gift shop around the park.

Kids loved the giant Donald and Nero was always good with kids. He would pretend to be Donald when they approached him carrying the giant stuffed toy and play with them until they either got bored or their parents dragged them away. Avilio seemed uncomfortable with the crowd of children and watched him from a distance whenever they converged.

After lunch they visited the haunted house where Nero let out a unmanly scream as he jumped behind Donald. Some teenagers laughed at him and he had to drag himself through the rest of the ride in shame. Avilio tried to suppress his snickers with a fist. 

By nightfall, Nero was thoroughly perplexed by Avilio’s diet consisting of sweets, coffee and booze. It seemed contrary to his thin waist line and flattering figure. Either his mouth was a black hole or he normally never ate anything.

They sat by a fountain, watching the small glimmer of stars as they waited for the fireworks show to start.

“You can barely see the stars here.” Avilio cocked his head back. “I used to always watch the stars like this with my brother. There were barely any lights from town where we lived. The sky was much clearer at night.

Nero sighed. “I used do the same with my brother and Vanno. But my brother barely talks to me anymore and Vanno’s, well...I guess lately he only talks to me about the casino and Fio.” He trailed off.

“Your sister?”

“Yeah he digs her, but she has a boyfriend.”

Avilio seemed to consider the information. “He doesn't like me.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Vanno wasn't jealous like Barbero was of Avilio, didn't feel threatened by him. Vanno was an enforcer-type, a loud, hot-headed tough guy. Avilio was mostly quiet and had a soft demeanor. Vanno respected the work he'd done for the casino, but doesn't respect him as a man. They were oil and water.

Something warm touched his right side. Nero looked over, surprised as Avilio rested his head on his shoulder. “He’s a devout Catholic and he thinks we’re dating.”

He nudged his nose into soft black hair. It smelled like pine. “No. Well... Maybe.”

They sat in silence, enjoying each other's body heat in the chilly November breeze. A moment later, crackling signaled the start of the fireworks show. Colors burst in the air in fiery tendrils. Red. Gold. Blues. Nero looped one arm around Avilio’s thin frame, and another around Donald. More red, green, white.

The final explosion consisted of three symmetrical flashes and sparklers that flew horizontally. Then, the smell of smoke. Children walked by, ferried by tired parents pushing strollers. They walked back to the hotel, side by side, hips occasionally bumping together. 

When they got to the room, Nero dragged his companion by the arm into the master bedroom of their bungalow suite. He pulled him into his lap and down onto the bed, arms wrapped around him. Avilio did not resist. Donald laid long forgotten in the hallway.

The touch alone made his entire body spark with electricity. Every point of skin contact was on fire. His heart felt raw, vulnerable. Neither said anything. Nero didn’t ask for sex. All he wanted was to hold him, to love him. 

He drifted in and out of sleep. Everytime he woke up, he checked that Avilio was still beside him, then buried his face so he could smell pine.

 

The second day at Disney World was much the same. Avilio forced him to do many childish things like watch the parade of waving mascots and go on the Winnie the Pooh ride. The raft ride left Nero wet around the crotch, causing the first genuine smile he had seen on Avilio’s face. Lunch found them sharing spoonfuls of Chinese and a milkshake, discussing the finer points about cuisine and who would be a better manager running Disney World.

Before long the sun started setting. Nero was overwhelmed with lament that their short vacation was over. They would have to go back to their real life back at the casino, back to life in the mob. Since he was 14 he had been inducted into the family. It has been a long time since he was allowed to be a kid.

They stood in the shade of Cinderella's castle, enjoying the sound of laughing families and Disney songs in the background. 

“Thanks.” Nero patted the boy on the back, “for organizing this.”

Avilio shrugged as it was no big deal and said quietly, “You paid for this, I should be thanking you.”

Suddenly, Nero was engulfed in longing, a desire he could no longer control. He laced his fingers with Avilio’s and pulled him close. “Then thank me properly.”

The boy flushed. Red cheeked, he tipped his head up. Nero met his lips with his own. They were slightly wet, rougher than he thought. Tasted like the milkshake they had at lunch. The kiss was chaste, barely a brush.

“You two are a cute couple.” Nero look up at the voice. A few meters away two girls in staff uniforms stood looking giddy. 

“Do you want a photo together?” The taller of the two held up one of those instant print cameras.

“Sure.” They moved further apart, slightly embarrassed as they posed for the picture. 

The girls took two photos and handed them the print outs. 

“Thanks.”

Nero passed them a crisp bill before turning his attention to the shapes that were forming from the previously black image. They really were a stunning pair.

On the king bed they spent the last night of their vacation spooning together with Donald as the third wheel. The next morning, they packed and left for the airport, Nero’s photo tucked safely away in the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

 

***

 

Angelo’s arrival back to the rented apartment just off the Strip caused him to let out a long sigh. He managed to make up an excuse for not returning straight to the suite he shared with his target, probably only getting away with it because Nero still felt awkward about their kiss.

A quick check of the apartment showed that his rendezvous agent had not arrived. He pulled out the loose floorboard under his living room rug and dug out his issued laptop. Between the screen and keyboard was his FBI badge which he had to keep hidden from the Lodge’s residents or risk compromising his undercover mission. Rarely did he visit the safehouse except to meet with his rendezvous agent, but this time the distance apart from Nero really helped him cool his head.

Known as the rookie prodigy of the FBI Organized Crime unit, Angelo had agreed to go undercover to investigate the Vanetti family despite warnings from his commissioner. His Italian Sicilian heritage helped but it was up to him to decide how to infiltrate the family. He decided on using Nero. He was the young Chicago capo in Las Vegas.

Before Angelo was dropped off in Vegas he thought infiltration meant proving himself as a man of honor, a true mafioso. It soon became clear that sleeping his way in was a lot easier and a lot less dangerous. Nero was smitten with him on sight.

Problem was, six months in, there was a distinct lack of progress. His greatest accomplishment was the few financial reports he saw Nero burning just days ago, and he managed to steal a few pages as evidence. No progress meant the higher ups might pull the plug on the entire operation. The timer was ticking. He reminded himself to find a better hiding spot for the evidence in case someone found his hideout.

Rubbing his shoulder, Angelo leaned against the plain wall of the apartment as his laptop booted up. The floor was dusty from disuse. He was confused and frustrated. Nero was a constant source of repulsion and attraction. No matter how focussed he was in his mission, he felt guilt over his deception. Every morning he had to remind himself he was doing this for his country. 

As an agent for the FBI, Angelo wasn’t allowed to initiate sex with his target and Nero hadn’t made a move, he was growing increasingly sexually frustrated. The last two nights only made it unbearable. His commissioner had warned him that he could catch feelings. 

The laptop booted to the front page and he accessed the secret icon for the FBI communication service. Seeing that signal strength was good, he leaned into the microphone.

“Agent Lagusa, checking in…”

 

***

 

There was an empty void left by the lack of Avilio’s presence. Nero immediately missed him. He had never felt this way before about anybody. Dozens of girls had passed through his bed, but done made him want the way Avilio did. 

Reaching the casino, he dropped off his luggage and headed for his upstairs office. A step in, Nero knew something was wrong. Several locked cabinets were opened and files left ruffled inside. The mug on his desk was put on the ground and his chair was pulled out instead of pushed in. He immediately backtracked into the hall and called Vanno.

“Vanno, we have a double-three in my office.”

“You there now?”

“What do you think?! Get up here now.” 

He hung up and reached under the potted plant in the hallway, pulling out a loaded revolver. Crouching down, he aimed his gun while watching for movement. He didn't dare make a sound.

Steps echoed down the hall and Nero prayed it was Vanno and not an enemy. It was only when he saw Vanno’s face peek up above the stairs did he let out the breath he was holding. 

“Anyone?” Vanno cocked his handgun in the direction of the door. 

Nero shook his head. “No movement so far.”

“How’d you know it's a double-three?” 

“The locked cabinets were open.”

Vanno furrowed his brows. “Shit.”

“It should be fine, I got rid of the old finance reports over Thanksgiving. Barbero said accounting already submitted the new ones. There’s no evidence.”

“Thank god.” Vanno sighed. “Who could it be though?” 

“No idea.”

His partner paused, “Avilio? Does he have access to your key?”

Nero was sure it wasn't Avilio since they were together the entire weekend, not that Vanno was aware. He knew Nero often travelled alone during Thanksgiving and didn't particularly care where Avilio spent his time. Probably assumed he went to visit his folks.

“He could get the spare from above the ceiling tile in my bathroom I guess, if he broke the lock to the room door, but he was out of town all weekend.”

“Shit, you think it could be the feds?”

“They're not stupid, wouldn't make a mess like this.” Nero replied. 

“Another family?”

Nero shrugged. “Some idiot would need serious balls to mess with Chicago without the Commission’s permission.”

More steps echoed down the hall. Vanno flung himself away from the view of the stairs and hid around the corner beside Nero. Nero could hear him holding his breath. He squinted at the shadows as if it would help him see. His cocked his gun slightly, he was always a poor aim but desperate times called for desperate measures…

“Nero? Are you back?”

He heard Vanno breath out. “God damn it Barbero, I almost shot you.”

Barbero’s face appeared over the edge of the stairs. He adjusted his glasses and blinked as his eyes rounded to the two squatting around the corner. 

“What are you doing?”

“Somebody broke in,” Nero gestured with his foot in the direction of his office.

Barbero glanced down the hall, sudden realisation dawned on his face. “Oh you mean the mess, there is a reason for that.”

“Huh,” Nero groaned, “you mean you were the one who flipped my office around?”

“There’s good reason for that.”

Vanno shot Barbero a confused look. “What in the world is going on, what were you doing messing up his office?”

It was definitely strange for the normally meticulous Babero to be rummaging through Nero’s office without permission. Babero reached into his suit jacket, into his breast pocket and took out a small black plastic device. Vanno stood up and leaned to take a closer look at the object in his palm. “What’s that?”

“I went into Nero’s office over Thanksgiving and something felt off. The janitors don’t clean in there but there was dust missing where there should be dust and I know Nero never cleans.”

Nero snorted. “And?”

“I looked around until I found this, I’m almost positive it’s a listening device.”

Vanno and Nero gave each other a look. Simultaneously they burst out, “The feds?”

Babero nodded, pocketing the device. “I’m concerned they’re onto our operation.”

Like most mobsters, they all knew the two things that they could not ignore were rats and the RICO act. Paying off cops and politicians was not a big deal, breaking the law was not a big deal, but getting caught doing it? That was abig deal.

“I burnt up the rest of whatever we had before, as long as we stay squeaky clean for the next few months and keep our heads low, they should go away.” Babero advised. “The FBI’s got no money for us now that they’re all focussed on terrorists. If they find nothing they’ll run out of funding and leave us alone.”

Vanno rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit, but we can’t ignore this. If they’re onto us...we could have a rat.”

Babero starred hard at his two oldest companions. “Or another Donnie Brasco situation.”

“What do you mean, you think we have an infiltration?” Nero asked.

“How else would someone get so close to this room without security catching them?” Babero replied, “I had Tigre re-run footage all weekend.”

“And?” Vanno was getting impatient.

“The only people to come by this hallway were the regulars, Tigre, Volpe, us and…” he trailed off and turned his eyes toward Nero. “And your new assistant, Avilio.”

Nero was immediately defensive. He glared at Babero accusingly. “Really? Really? Don’t you think you’re going too far?”

“Nero he’s still new, we can’t be sure he’s trustworthy!”

“Does your jealousy know no bounds?!” Nero spat. He felt his ears go hot and his sight blinded by red. 

Vanno moved between them. “Hey, Babero’s got a point. We should at least question him.”

“No! I told you both to just trust me, and you’ve both refused to acknowledge my judgement.” Nero turned away and started walking, so infuriated he couldn't see straight. “I’m your boss, in Chicago that means you both listen to me!”

“Nero-”

“This conversation is over.”

He could hear Babero sigh before he slammed the door to his office.

 

***

 

Angelo returned to the suite they shared in a light mood. His senior agent had been very receptive to the evidence he retrieved in Disney World. Now he was exhausted after the travelling and he spared no time to start a warm bath in the private washroom connected to his room. Steam clung to his skin and he could feel himself unwinding as he sat back in the tub. 

Many thoughts ran wild through his head as he bathed. Angelo wasn’t particularly ambitious and was far from the bureaucratic ladder climbers of the agency, but the thought of the possible outcomes of his mission filled him with anticipation. A major arrest of the so-called “legitimate” branch of the Vanetti family meant the first step into crushing out the last of the Italian mob in Illinois. His father had died, shot to death in the line of fire from one of the Vanetti guys almost ten years ago. If the arrest warrants went through, it would mark the ten year death anniversary of his father.

Thoughts of Nero slowly strayed into his consciousness. How would he take the news of his betrayal? Would he feel relief that he never fucked an undercover agent? Or regret for not trying to make their relationship work out, even though it was obvious that Nero was falling in love with him? Would Angelo be called as a witness in court to testify against him? How would he be able to look him in the eyes that just a day ago watched as they locked lips under Cinderella’s castle? How many more days did they have together living in domestic bliss like this?

Warmth pooled in his crotch and he knew it wasn't from the bath. He reached out his hand, cutting through the water to grip his hardening cock. Just the thought of Nero got him aroused. Six months ago he would've never imagined rubbing one out over Don Vanetti’s handsome young son. It had been a long time since he last had sex and his was feeling impatient.

He let out a quiet moan.

Loud knocks jolted him back to cold reality. It sounded like it was coming from his bedroom door outside. 

“Who is it?” He yelled, but received no answer. Cautiously, he quickly got out of the bath and rubbed his hair and body dry with a towel before putting on his hotel issued bathrobe. No one ever knocked on his door before except cleaners, so he half expected to see the cleaning lady waiting with her cart as he slowly let the door open, hinges creaking.

The object of his lustful thoughts a few moments ago stood in the door, hair dripping wet with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Like Angelo, he must have just gotten out of the shower. Angelo’s eyes started to take in Nero’s still damp body. They lingered over his muscular chest and broad shoulders. He felt his throat go dry as the scent of cologne wafted from his body. Clearly he had gotten himself ready for this unexpected visit. 

“Nero.”

Before he had a chance to say anymore, Nero pinned his arms this sides with his forceful embrace, his tongue darting into his mouth. Feverishly, he kissed him, using his larger frame to dominate Angelo as his tongue explored the inside of his mouth, his jaw and then his neck.

With both knees weak as he let his body lean in, Angelo felt himself being lifted and hauled backwards until he felt the soft cotton sheets against his calves. He plopped down, letting the loosened bathrobe slide down and reveal his left shoulder, peered at Nero’s face through half-lidded eyes. The taller man was standing in front of him, trying to calm his breaths, as if wondering what to do next. 

He batted his long dark lashes, alternating between looking at Nero’s face, contorted with lust and the towel around his waist. In acting classes provided for undercover agents, this had been his ‘secret move.’ The rules meant he wasn't allowed to act, but he could seduce.

Nero was easily convinced to lose his towel. Angelo licked his lips wet and placed both hands on the edge of the bed between his legs, balancing himself as he slightly opened his mouth. Hot and rock hard, Nero pushed his cock against his lips, the salty, bitter taste dripping onto his tongue as Angelo licked the tip, and then worked his way down his shaft.

“You’re gorgeous.” Nero moaned as Angelo took his cock into his mouth and started sucking in rhythm with light thrusts from his hips. “I can barely hold myself back.”

He placed his palm to the back of Angelo’s head, not pushing him into his cock, but rather sifting his fingers through his short hair. He brushed his bangs to the side as his hair stuck to his face, some from the bath and some from sweat. Angelo could feel the cock growing larger in his mouth as he picked up his pace. It was so hot and large he felt his jaw cramping from taking his size as he continued to suck deeper and deeper. Nero let out another moan, his grip tightening in his hair.

Reaching under his bathrobe, Angelo couldn't help but start playing with his own cock, teasing himself with one hand as the other kept him balanced, he wanted to finish what Nero had interrupted. 

Perhaps seeing Angelo grow aroused, Nero stopped his head with his hand. Angelo let go of his cock, letting saliva and semen drip down the corners of his mouth. “What?” he grew worried, “you’re not going to stop now are you?”

Nero gently grabbed both of his shoulders and pushed him back into the bed, untying the cinch around his waist. Angelo didn't resist as the other man parted both of his legs and crawled into bed, hovering above him, letting his legs hook around Nero’s hips. Angelo wasn’t hugely into being bottom during the first time with a guy but he was fairly sure Nero’s only been with women. Asking him to do ass play on the first night was probably too much. 

“C-can I…Avilio?” Nero shuttered. It was kind of cute, Angelo was surprised he was asking for permission. He seemed like the type who took what he wanted. 

He opened his legs more, lifting his hips slightly, his bathrobe falling to the sides and pooling underneath him, then gave Nero a half-lidded stare. “What does it look like?”

It was all the encouragement the older man needed to start kissing him again. This time he went slow, savouring each curve of his chin, his collarbones and finally his nipples. Angelo hated having his nipples touched because it tickled but decided to hold it in to humor him or else risk ruining the moment. He let out a small gasp as pleasure coursed from his chest down to his crotch. His cock twitched in agony as Nero continued to lavish attention to his left nipple with his tongue, gently stroking the right with his fingers. 

Maybe he did like having his nipples touched.

“Please,” Angelo let out another moan. Thoughts of being a decent FBI agent were long gone from his mind. Professionalism be damned. “Just fuck me already!”

Nero paused and lifted up his head. “Do you have any lube? Or condoms?”

Angelo glared back at him. “Really? Didn't you come prepared?”

“I was actually planning on trying to convince you to come back to my room for a drink, I had no idea you’d answer the door all wet in nothing but a bathrobe.”

Angelo groaned and rolled up his sleeves. Stroking himself, he pulled Nero closer to him. “Hurry up.” 

The other man jump to his feet and dashed from the room. Widening his legs, he took whatever precum he could muster from his reddened cock and rubbed his anus in attempt to loosen himself. As his pushed his fingers in he curled them to feel out the spot that he knew would make him cum, his other fingers trailed the length of his shaft as he quickened his pace, pleasuring himself from the front and behind. 

“Woah.” Nero exclaimed as his face reappeared in the door frame. “Are you gonna finish without me?”

“Hurry up.”

Nero quickly kneeled back onto the bed, sheathed himself and lathered a copious amount of lubricant over his still hard cock. Pulling Angelo’s fingers out of the way, he positioned his hips over his ass as he hooked both of his legs back over his waist. 

“Have you ever done anal before?” Angelo said bluntly. “You're not even going to loosen me up?”

“Aren't you already loosened?” Nero was clearly clueless when it came to fucking anything but a vagina.

“I guess that’s a no.” He rocked up his upper body, took Nero’s fingers in his own and covered them with the smooth cold lube with his other hand. He then positioned the man’s index finger at his entrance and pushed it fully inside. It had been at least a year since he let someone do this to him. He was tighter than expected and it took awhile to get used to it. 

Nero added another finger after he nodded for him to continue, and then a third. It was still uncomfortable. He struggled to relax. After a few minutes he pushed his palms against Nero’s chest for him to stop. “I don't trust you not to impale me, let me get on top.”

They switch positions and Angelo straddled his lover, rubbing his buttocks against Nero’s shaft to keep him aroused. 

“Remember when you told me that you didn't swing that way?” Angelo smirked. 

“Huh, did I say that?” Nero grinned sheepishly. 

Angelo positioned himself over his groin and slowly lowered himself, letting the hot shaft push him open. He moaned as it entered all the way. Nero wasn’t much of a shower but he was definitely a grower. It was way larger than Angelo expected. 

Nero moaned. “Fuck, you're so hot.”

Angelo rocked his hips slowly as he tried to adjust to the girth. “Shit, it's big.” He let out.

Nero beamed proudly back at him. “You’re so tight, it feels so fucking good…”

He picked up the pace, trying to angle it so he could ride it into his prostate. Nero seemed to understand and helped hold his hips in place, thrusting with him. Suddenly he hit the spot and Angelo froze as he let out a moan full of lust. Nero was happy to continue where he left off and fucked him deep as his toes curled. He was sure the other man was going to bruise his hips but he couldn't stop as his breathing became laboured. Pleasure overwhelmed his senses as each thrust brought him closer to climax, Nero was good at aiming and was more attentive of a lover than he thought. He teased the tip of his own cock, feeling his balls tighten in anticipation.

A spark jolted through his body as he came, his toes twitching, trying in desperation to keep balance before he pulled himself off and collapsed onto his bed. His cock erupted white cum over his pillow and he moaned loudly, choking out Nero’s name. Breaths slowed as he relaxed against the bed, remembering only a moment later that his partner still hadn't finished.

He looked over and saw Nero stroking himself. Angelo grabbed his buttocks and pulled them open, leaving nothing to the imagination. “Come on, I can go for another round.”

 

Sunlight showers blinded Angelo as he blinked away sleep from his eyes. His skin felt clammy and it was only after several moments of dazed staring at the wall did he remember what happened last night. Panic and regret immediately set in as he realised that he had really gone too far. His life wasn't in any danger and he should've rejected his advances, like his FBI training had taught him.

“Hey Sleepyhead.” Nero’s voice croaked. Angelo turned his body toward the source of the sound to face the man lying beside him, eyes wandering over olive skin and a warm expression. “About time you woke up. Your watch had been going off like crazy.”

Angelo squinted as he tried to recall whether he had set any alarms. Today was Tuesday, which he usually had off. 

The bed rocked as Nero got up from the bed. Still naked, he started his way back towards the hallway. “I gotta get back to the floor, we got a big corporate event in the west wing I need to make sure happens without a hiccup. 

He checked the watch he kept on his end table, it was already 10 am, they were fooling around until pretty late but Nero should've been down there ages ago. “Why...did you wait for me to wake up?”

Nero yelled back from beyond the doorway. “Huh?” Realization dawned on his face. “Well you know…didn't want you to wake up alone.”

“I recall meeting at least two young ladies who woke up alone and bumped into me on their way out.”

Nero came back into the room, dressed in a bathrobe, and patted Angelo’s head, ruffling his hair. “Well you’re different you know.”

“How so? Because I’m a guy? I'm not a delicate prince you know.”

Nero paused and cleared his throat. Angelo could see red crawling up the exposed part of his neck line. “Well you know...you’re special...to me.”

The room felt stuffy. Nero coughed again and started back for the door. “Anyways I'm going now...so…”

“Nero,” Angelo couldn't control his thoughts anymore. His heart was racing, pounding like thunder through his veins. “You don't have to live this life, you don't have to be a slave to the mob.” His brain told him to clamp his mouth shut as his words tumbled out, this train of thought could compromise his entire mission. “You're talented, you can be a regular guy and still make lots of money.”

Nero looked away. “Avilio…”

Angelo hated the sound of that false name rolling from his lips. “I can't stay here forever, but if you leave with me, we could be together.” His arms were trembling. If this didn't work out, he could get killed on the spot. What was he even doing? 

A pair of warm arms wrapped around his neck. If it weren't for their gentleness, Angelo would have thought he was trying to choke him to death. “I’m sure now that I'm in love with you, I don't...I've ever felt like this about anyone before.” Nero whispered into his ear. Angelo’s stomach did flip flops at the L-word.

“But I can't leave the family. No matter how hard it gets, this is my life and I have a duty to my family before all else, even love.” Caressing his cheek, Nero planted a firm kiss on his cheekbone before getting back up and out the door. It was cold and dry. The chill of the room set-in and Angelo never felt emptier. 

Nero’s warmth and willingness to accept him had overwhelming power over him. Even though he knew it wouldn't last, the thought of ending their romance shook him to the core. Only Nero opened him up in ways he felt he was unable to since his father’s tragic death and the irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. He didn't want this bliss to end and he knew that the moment he handed over the financial evidence to the FBI, it would be over.

The watch on the endtable went off. It was a short tune in C major. Angelo snapped his eyes towards the watch, reaching over so quickly he almost bonked his head on the corner of the table. It was his rendezvous agent’s call tone. Placing his finger over the screen, it scanned his finger print and unlocked the call function.

“Hello? C?” Angelo scrambled to bring the tiny speaker to his ear.

“Agent Lagusa! I've been trying to reach you for hours!” 

“Sorry, I was...busy.”

“I have urgent news.” 

“What's wrong?” He could tell the other agent’s voice was shaking. Corteo was still fairly new so he wasn't surprised that he was nervous. 

“They found the bug you planted last week. When I checked the GPS signal late last night, it was no longer in the office but still in the casino!”

The hair on the back of Angelo’s neck stood up. If someone already found it, then Nero might have already known about the bug. Was last night a test of his loyalty or did he not suspect him yet? Angelo had made the casino a lot of money, so Nero did seem to trust him as a business partner but…

Corteo continued to ramble. “We listened to the signal but it was all echoing noise. Someone could be messing with it to figure out how it works. The commissioner is concerned your life maybe in danger if they realise who you are!”

“Nero acted completely normal with me this morning, I don’t think he knows or suspects me.” He left out information about the sex.

“It doesn't matter, you got the evidence and now we need you to get out asap.”

Angelo gritted his teeth. No. This was too soon. “We can’t put the Vanetti’s behind bars with these papers alone.”

“But we can get the Las Vegas crew with them, we can’t take chances with your life! We need you to get out.”

He didn't want Nero behind bars, not like this. 

Corteo’s voice was growing alarmed. “Please, you can’t stay any longer, this mission isn’t worth it. You won’t be a hero by dying!”

“I can’t-“

“Agent Lagusa!” The sound of his commissioner boomed through the tiny watch speaker. “This is an order from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If you don't get out now, you will legally be declared a rogue agent.”

Scrunching up his eyes, he knew he had no choice. He jumped from the bedside and scurried to get on a clean change of clothes. Instead of the regular shirt, vest and tie he wore around the casino, he threw on a pair of jeans, a red hoodie and a ball cap to blend in with the tourists. He had little to bring except his watch, phone, sunglasses and his wallet. His orders had been to travel light. 

Without munch in the way of luggage, he made his way down the hallway and out to the hotel’s presidential wing. He left through the stairs just as he heard the ding from the elevator arriving on the floor. Heart pounding through his ribs, his mind ran wild with scenarios, there were three types of people who came to this floor - tourists (there were none checked in this week), cleaners (they only came after check out time and it was just past 10 am), and Nero’s people - the only likely option. 

He quickened his pace down the stairs, arrived on the landing to the regular guest floor four stories below and started for the main elevators. They were offset from the elevator on the presidential floor so he was unlikely to be followed.

He kept looking back to check for anyone tailing him, standing behind an elderly couple also waiting for the elevator. When it arrived, he huddled in the corner, pretending to play with his phone as he waited for it to go down, his heart thumping as they stopped to pick up more passengers until it reached the bottom.

Laughing families and rowdy older gentlemen filled the lobby with noise. Waiters balanced drinks even in the morning to drunk gamblers and holiday makers looking to live on Vegas time. Angelo made his way through a crowd, dunking down as he changed his posture to make it difficult to recognize him in the cameras. He knew there was a blind spot near the north entrance so he flipped his hoodie inside out to the grey side, lost the ball cap and put on his sunglasses.

Seven minutes later he was out the exit, which only a weekend ago he had slipped out with Nero to a cab for Florida. The beaming sun kept the pavement warm, even in the chill of November. Buzzing vehicles crawled at snails pace down the crowded South Las Vegas Boulevard, cameras wouldn’t be able to tail him outside. He just needed to get a cab and it would be difficult to follow him in the heavy traffic. However, all the cabs were doing pick ups at the north entrance cab stop. They didn't do pick ups anywhere on the strip anymore.

Adrenaline made him pant harder as he almost started jogging to the cab line. He turned to the left as he rounded the corner, a hundred meters and he would be there…

A hand planted on his shoulder. Reacting as an agent, Angelo swiveled and ducked out the opposite direct to avoid the grip, holding his forearm out to block any incoming attacks. His eyes widened as he took in the man in front of him. 

“You…”

“What is this?” A crumpled page was dangled in his view. The was a photocopy of a document he knows well. It was his new recruit entrance identification form from three years ago when he joined the FBI. The FBI had deleted all records of his employment and life when he went undercover, but the database with entrance applications mustn’t been wiped.

He sighed. “Nero-“

“What. Is. This.” The taller man boomed, voice steady as though it would mask the way his fist shook. Rage? Sadness? Fear? Angelo wasn’t sure. “I always told Barbero to trust you, but then he handed me this-I can’t even-how could you-”

“I-“ place you under arrest, is what he should have said. But nothing came out.

Heaving, Nero crumpled the paper and tossed it down the road. The man’s eyes were razor sharp, his jaw clenched, fist still jittering. Needing to take out his anger on somebody.

“I’ve always trusted you, I defended you whenever Barbero and Vanno said shit about you. I saw you as my right hand man, one of my best employees,” He let out a strained laugh. “I guess I was a fool. I can’t believe it, you’re an undercover agent? For the feds? Do they teach you how to give blow jobs there or something, or are you just that huge of a slut that you couldn’t keep your legs together on the job?” Nero’s words sliced like knives.

Angelo backed-up slowly, just out of the range of his fists. He gulped as hard as he could but his throat had dried up and he felt the onset of panic. Nero was not an idiot, he was sure he had men set-up with sniper guns through the windows, or even behind him. He couldn’t check behind him in case Nero clocked him in the head. 

“Fucker, answer me!” He yelled and took a step forward. Angelo met his eyes and was surprised to find that they were filled with grief. His tone conveyed anger but his face showed nothing but hurt. He had broken his heart.

“Nero.” A small crowd was gathering around him, they were looking on with curiosity as they faked indifference. He had to get out of sight of the crosshairs if he wanted to live. 

Angelo batted his eyes and gave Nero what he hoped was a wistful look. It seemed to catch him off guard as his relaxed his stance. Rapidly, he spun on his heel and ran for it as fast as his feet could take him, pushing through the crowd. A girl gasped as he tapped her shoulder as he ran past her. He could hear footsteps clicking behind him which he recognized were Nero’s Italian leather shoes.

Running faster and faster, he ducked and weaved through the crowd, arms tucked close to his body to make himself a smaller target. It wasn’t long before he made it away from the crowds on the Strip to a side road. There were less vehicles here and if he wasn't being furiously pursued he would've jacked a motorbike to put some distance behind him.

Seeing a gap between a few buildings, he flew through, almost tripping on some old bottles chucked on the ground. Time seemed to be moving slowly as he ran and ran and ran. North? South? He wasn’t sure anymore and the buildings covered his view of the sky. Sweat poured down his face as his sense of survival was the only thing pumping his legs forward.

Before long he saw some familiar streets and knew he was getting close to his hideout. If he was unlucky, Corteo could be there and Angelo could be putting him in danger. Nero almost certainly had a gun on him, he was just looking for a reason to shoot. He had to stop. His muscles were giving out beneath him. Darting to the left, he saw the parking lot to the apartment, white SUV sitting like an oven in the sun. 

He bolted for the door, stopping to catch is breath as he fumbled for his key tucked into the coin case on his wallet.

Footsteps clicked on the pavement and paused. His panting was echoed by the other man, clearly as exhausted as he was.

“You’re a fast little shit.” Nero groaned as he clutched his waist, having ran harder than his usual exercise, he must have a cramp. 

Angelo unlocked the door of his car, he went to the passenger's side, bent over the seat and wincing as the hot leather seat scorched his hand. He peeled away the rubber mat on the floor and opened the compartment hidden underneath. 

There was the photo of them at Disney World on top of the few pages of casino financial reports he had squirreled away. He left them in the car in case he needed a quick getaway.

From the side he could hear Nero approaching, open the door and then sink into the driver’s seat. Without looking at the other man, he then got into the passenger's seat and clicked on his seat belt, shoving the photo and papers into his lap. Angelo straightened the prize he had dug out of the hidden compartment. His companion had clearly saw them.

“Where to?” Nero seemed to recover a bit. His chest rose and fell steadily as he adjusted the seat. 

“How about Florida?” 

Nero wordless grabbed the keys from his hands and started the car. 

They sat in silence as they drove, pulling out first through the city, further and further from the glitz and glam of the Strip until they went on the highway and out into a landscape of nothing but desert. 

It had become cloudy. Outside the city was a stark contrast to the loud everyday banter and light of the Strip, outside it was dusty and silent. It was easy to forget just behind them was the skeletal graveyard of the Mafia’s glory days in Las Vegas.

Once Angelo was sure no one was following them, he ripped up the evidence his commissioner had told him to keep safe, wheeled down the window, and tossed the pieces outside, scattering them into the wind.

“What are we doing?” Nero said quietly. 

“Running away.”

“Duh, but why are you running away. Aren’t you a fed?”

Angelo turned to look out the window, eyes trailing the dust cloud kicked up by the vehicle. “Not after destroying valuable evidence.”

“So you can't jail me without it.” Nero stated. 

Angelo shrugged. “I don't care anymore. The evidence is gone, you can turn back now and return to the casino if you really want to.”

“I let a fed infiltrate the family business, I’m as good as dead. Chicago won’t forgive that and no amount of pleading will save my ass. If anything they’ll probably send Vanno to shoot me.”

“Hm. Some family you got there.”

Nero clicked his tongue. “All thanks to you, you piece of shit.”

“My name’s Angelo, Angelo Lagusa.” Correcting him, Angelo wiped the dampness from his face with a sleeve as he turned back to look at his lover.

“Well you’re far from being an angel, I can tell you that.”

Sighing, the former agent cranked up the A/C, relaxing as the cold air cooled the sweat on his brow. “Well, I guess it's just me and you now.”

“Didn't you want to run away with me?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess you get your wish.”

Angelo asked. “Don’t you regret falling in love with me?”

From his peripheral vision, he could see Nero grin. He looked as if he was years younger. “Sometimes you gotta gamble, to know what you really want.”

Angelo snorted, he couldn't hold back a grin. “You know I cheated right? When we first met?”

“At the poker tables?”

“Yeah, I had cards up my sleeves but nobody saw me discard them when you and your goonies arrived.”

“You little shit-”

They both laughed.


End file.
